


americana exotica

by SummerFrost



Series: Suitehearts [11]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ableism, Autism, Awkward Flirting, Barbecue, Fashion & Couture, Implied kink, Kink Shaming, M/M, NHL All-Star Weekend, and a healthy dose of property damage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost
Summary: It's a literal thing Miley can say now: Milo Karlsson is an All Star. And it's not even the only great thing that happens that weekend!





	americana exotica

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to the #hellsquad and agrossunderstatement, who beta'd. Extra special thanks to Mal, who held my hand through the Jack characterization.
> 
> Title from Young Volcanoes by FOB.

**January 2019**

The thing is that Miley's been thinking about Jack Zimmermann for a long time. Not in a really creepy or specific way; it's just that hockey's been Miley's biggest special interest for most of his life (with notable exceptions like that three week period where Miley watched all of _My Cat from Hell_ and read everything Jackson Galaxy's ever written and bought a bunch of pet stuff on Amazon and then adopted a cat, and also that time he ended up with like thirty floral ties that kicked off a still-growing collection).

But anyway, most of the time it's been hockey, and he always comes _back_ to hockey. So Miley watched the first press conference Zimmermann gave after he withdrew from the 2009 draft, and he watched all the televised college hockey games, and he's been watching Zimmermann's NHL career the same amount he watches all the other popular players, which is maybe more than most people do. So Miley's had a lot of time to think the thought, _Zimmermann is, like, daddy,_ before it actually comes out of his mouth.

Which is probably why Nelly does an actual spit-take and no one else immediately agrees with him, but it's still confusing. It's like, _so obvious._

Bitty puts his hands up in the air and says, “Oh my God, no, I can't,” and Nelly is still laughing.

“Don't laugh!” Miley tells him. “I'm serious!”

“Yeah, Bittle,” Nelly says even though Miley was talking to him, “don't kinkshame my rookie.”

Miley tries to read Bitty's face. Maybe he's being rude because Bitty and Zimmermann used to date?

Bitty says, “I'm _not,_ I just—”

“Oh, sorry,” Miley cuts in. He sits up on his hands to look more in Bitty's direction. “Is this awkward because you used to—”

Bitty's voice goes really high. “No! Or, I mean yes, but not like that!”

“You can say you dommed the shit outta him,” Nelly says, which is weird. “It’s okay, this is a safe space.”

Bitty gets up from the couch and walks into the kitchen. “A gentleman doesn't spank and tell.”

Miley starts to ask, “Wait, sp—” but no one's paying attention. He pouts and rubs his hands across the rough-textured carpet to have something else to focus on.

Nelly turns around to shout, “Safe space!” at Bitty again, then whispers something to Parse that Miley can't hear.

After handing Parse a beer, Bitty sits back down again. Miley could probably let it go now and someone will start talking about something else, but he really is confused.

“Seriously,” he says, “everyone in this room's slept with him besides me, and you're telling me—”

“I haven't,” Cap interrupts. He's been pretty quiet this whole time, probably because he only has sex with girls. Miley doesn't expect him to get it.

He rolls his eyes affectionately at Straight Dad, though, and corrects, “Okay, like...sixty percent of the people in this room have fucked Zimmermann, and none of you are on board with the daddy thing?”

As soon as he says it, Parse stands up really quickly, actually kind of tripping over his own feet to do it, which isn't like him at all, and he takes the dogs outside and slams the door even though Bitty had definitely _just_ let the dogs in when he got that other beer.

That freaks Miley out, kind of, because Bitty used to date Zimmermann but so did Parse, and Miley didn't even think about asking if Parse thought this was weird. Is Parse mad at him?

Miley presses his fingers really hard into the carpet and nervously asks, “That feels like a problem?”

This is normally the part where Nelly does the Dad thing and explains whatever’s happening, but he just stands up and touches Miley’s hair without asking and says, “Follow your dreams, Rook,” which isn’t an answer.

Miley looks at Cap instead. “Is Parse mad at me?”

Benji says, “I’m sure Nel’ll talk to him.”

“That’s not an answer, though,” Miley says. He rolls over onto his belly so that he can smush his face against the carpet. It smells like Nelly’s dogs. “I don’t—”

“It’s Parse,” Bitty interrupts. “He’s mad half the time.”

Miley drums a hand on the floor in frustration. “Not at _me._ I mean I think I annoy him a lot, but that’s in a fun way to make him less sad.” He lifts his head and stares at Bitty’s furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“Look, Milo, if you want to indulge your questionable taste in men, Kent Parson has no stones to throw.” Bitty laughs to himself, then stands up and starts collecting beer bottles. He grabs the unopened one that Miley got like forty minutes ago and then forgot about because they started talking about hot guys. “And neither do I, for that matter. But I’m gettin’ outta here before Travis comes back and starts hounding me for deets about my _thoroughly_ sordid sexual history.”

Miley opens his mouth to ask a question, but Bitty holds up a hand to stop him and says, “I’m kidding. Don’t tell him I said that.”

The back door creaks open. Bitty curses and ditches all of the bottles on the coffee table.

“Wait,” Miley says, “you never said who you think is hottest.”

Bitty doesn’t look up from where he’s slipping his shoes back on. He answers, “Brent Burns,” and darts out the front door right when Nelly starts to yodel his name.

Miley tilts his head back to look at Benji upside down. Benji shakes his head—joking.

“We should hide his keys next time,” Nelly comments. He jumps over the back of the couch and sprawls across the whole thing.

Parse comes in behind him and sits down on the floor near his shoulders. He’s close enough for Miley to see the smears of mud on his Converse and he doesn’t look angry or anything, but maybe a little sad like he gets sometimes.

Maybe it’s a lot of the time. Miley feels bad about it, like he ruined the whole afternoon or something. But then Parse gently nudges Miley with a toe and says, “Hey, Mo, kick my ass at Mario Kart?”

Miley smacks his hands on the ground excitedly and uses the momentum to roll himself towards the Switch controllers. He grabs them all and hands Parse the best one (the blue one with a Schooners sticker on the back), then asks, “Can we start on Rainbow Road?”

Parse laughs. “Jesus Christ.”

“You said I was supposed to win!” Miley reminds him cheerfully. He misses a lot of stuff, but he really does know how to make Parse feel better.

Parse smiles and shakes his head at the ceiling, then pats the carpet next to him.

Miley sits down and watches as Nelly boots up the game and all the Mario characters zoom across the screen. He asks, “Can I put my head on your shoulder?”

“Sure, Mo,” Parse answers.

Miley scoots over and rests his cheek on Parse’s shoulder, wiggling a bit until he’s comfortable. He always picks Yoshi as his character and Benji always picks Peach, and Parse and Nelly play rock-paper-scissors for King Boo.

Parse wins and starts scrolling through the different cars. Miley waits until the game starts and then asks, “Am I a good friend?”

“Jesus,” Parse says, either at Miley or because he’s fallen off the road already. “Of course you are.”

“Cool.” Miley waits for the Lakatu to put Parse’s car back on the road and then drives straight into him so that they both tumble off the map again.

Parse laughs so hard that Miley feels it vibrate in his jaw. “Shithead.”

Miley smiles.

 

~*~

 

Miley doesn’t really stop thinking about the Jack Zimmermann thing, but he mostly just mulls it over in private until Bitty approaches him after practice one day.

“Hi, Milo,” he says, catching Miley right after his shower. “Can we talk for a sec?”

Miley starts toweling off his hair. “Sure!”

“If we got you in, would you _actually_ be interested in going to the All Star weekend?” Bitty asks. He bites his lip. “I know some players don’t—”

“No, definitely!” Miley rocks up onto the balls of his feet. “That’s actually, like—do you think I could?”

Bitty is still biting his lip, but he smiles at the same time and his voice gets faster. “Well, I can’t make any promises, but I think we could! It would take some work, though, but I’ve been looking at which players normally get voted in and I think we could do a little campaign for it.”

“Really?” Miley asks. He’s still ruffling his hair with the towel even though it’s probably dry by now. He stops and wraps it around his waist again. “Um, I mean, are you sure you want it to be me?”

Bitty stops smiling as widely. “I don’t see why not?”

“It’s just that most of the PR people don’t like me and Dad’s other friends,” Miley explains.

“Mo, _shh,”_ Soup says.

Miley looks over at him quickly. Whoops. He didn’t think he was being loud, but that happens sometimes. But it’s not like it was a secret, anyway—it’s like the opposite of one.

But Bitty just says, “Well!” like it’s a complete sentence and beckons Miley closer like there’s some other secret. He half-whispers, “The difference being I’m good at my job.”

Miley frowns. “I don’t get it.”

Bitty frowns too and leans away a little bit. “You don’t think I’m good at my job?”

“No, you seem great at your job!” Miley fluffs up his hair to have something to do with his hands. “I meant I don’t get how they’re related?”

“Oh, bless,” Bitty says. He waves a hand in the general direction of Miley’s body. “Put some pants on and we’ll talk at your apartment. I hear you have a cat—the Internet _loves_ cats.”

“That’s true,” Miley agrees. He gets dressed quickly and texts Bitty his address. It’s…not great that the cleaning service hasn’t come for the week yet, because the apartment is kind of trashed even by Miley’s standards. Maybe the Internet also likes executive dysfunction?

 

~*~

 

“You _live_ like this?” Bitty asks.

Miley knows that one’s rhetorical, so he ignores Bitty and crouches down to pet Ost instead, who’s doing her nervous _‘Strangers!!’_ yell and rubbing against his ankles.

“We can probably clean it pretty fast?” Miley suggests. He kisses Ostie’s perfect little kitty head and bumps noses with her.

“Oh, hun,” Bitty says. He must be taking pictures because Miley can hear the camera clicking. “If I can’t bring myself to clean my own apartment, I ain’t cleanin’ yours. Let’s shove it all in a corner.”

That works for Miley. He and Bitty kick all the random sweaters and pairs of socks and the rest of the clothes that didn’t even make it into the same room as the laundry hamper behind the couch, and pile all the dishes on the kitchen counter. Bitty says _some_ of the cat toys can stay, but Miley still has to hide a bunch of them in the ottoman.

“So why’re you good at your job?” Miley asks, then winces. “I mean, um—why is being good at your job—”

“Oh my God,” Bitty mutters. He rubs at his eyebrows. “How do I put this—oh, fuck it. Don’t tell anyone I said this, especially Travis. If that boy’s head gets any bigger he’ll fall over on skates.”

Miley laughs. “Okay.”

“Upper management wants y’all to be a normal hockey team,” Bitty explains. He motions for Miley to get on the floor and play with Ost again, which is what Miley would rather be doing anyway, so that’s easy. “But you’re not one. You’re a weird expansion team in a stupid hipster city that’s about to host the second coming of Noah’s ark, and no one else in this _blessed_ organization would know what to do with a personality if it bit ‘em in the ass.”

“Kinky,” Miley says automatically.

Bitty says, “Thank you,” and then, “Do you see what I’m saying?”

Miley rolls onto his back on the floor. His carpet isn’t as good as Nelly’s, but it’s still pretty nice. “A lot of that was really weird and I kind of ignored it, but you’re saying that you think people will like us because we’re different?”

“Right,” says Bitty. He waves his hand over Miley’s face, which is probably supposed to mean something specific. “Anyway, can we get a video of you playing with her? And maybe we should put you in a tank top or something.”

But right when he says that, Ost crawls up onto Miley’s chest and makes her sleepy purr that’s almost a snore, which is Miley’s third favorite sound.

“Aww, Ostie wants to take her nap,” Miley tells him. “We can do it after.”

Bitty makes some kind of noise that Miley can't interpret and then asks, _“Seriously?”_

“She’s tired and wants cuddles!” Miley reaches a hand up to massage behind her ears. “I’m not waking her up.”

“Fine,” Bitty sighs. He takes a few pictures of them on the floor, then flops bodily onto Miley’s couch.

Miley listens to Ost snore for a little bit and thinks about taking a nap too, but he thinks that might be rude since Bitty’s here, so he stares up at the ceiling until the silence gets really weird and asks, “Why’d you and Jack Zimmermann break up?”

It sounds like Bitty moves on the couch in some way, but Miley doesn’t look. “I’m sorry?”

“Why’d you break up?” Miley repeats a little louder.

“Oh my God,” Bitty says. He does that a lot. “I don’t really want to talk about that, Milo.”

That’s fair. Miley asks, “Is it ‘cause you’re still in love with him?”

There’s a pretty long pause and the couch cushion squeaks again. “Has anyone ever told you that you ask _really_ invasive questions?”

“Yeah!” Miley says.

Bitty doesn’t say anything else.

Miley pets Ost’s back a few times. “So are you gonna answer, or?”

“I’m not,” Bitty says. “In love with him anymore, I mean. But not because he’s a bad person or anything, if that’s why you’re wondering.”

“Not really,” says Miley. “I was wondering why you broke up.”

Bitty gets up off the couch and sits down cross-legged near Miley’s head. “Fine, sure. Well, I guess it’s like, when you’re just trying _so_ hard to make something work, and it’s sort of like…if you got handed a recipe for how to cook something, and you kept trying and trying to—to fucking do it, but eventually you have to realize you’re not even trying to make the same thing anymore?”

“Wow.” Miley turns his head to stare at Bitty’s knee. “Um, sorry, that made no sense?”

Bitty huffs out a laugh and says dryly, “Let me guess—you’ve also already been told how rude you are?”

Yeah, and it’s like, definitely an autism thing, but Miley figures it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like he’ll say that to anyone on the team, anyway, even though sometimes he kind of wonders if the diagnosis is still in his file from when he was a kid. He could’ve looked, but it’s probably better to leave it alone. Even if it feels sorta icky that Bitty keeps pointing it out if he does know.

“I like ‘blunt’ better,” Miley says instead of any of that. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at avoiding things?”

Bitty laughs for real this time, which is nicer. “Once or twice. Do you…really wanna know?”

“Yeah,” Miley says.

Bitty reaches out like he might pet Ost, then changes his mind and rests his hand on his knee. “Why?”

Miley shrugs. “Everyone’s so weird about him. Plus I think he’s really hot and I kinda wanna meet him, and sometimes it’s hard for me to stop thinking about things once I start, so it’s better if I just—”

“I think we tried really hard to be compatible,” Bitty blurts out. “And we just…weren’t. Or, we were in some ways? But we couldn’t—haven’t you ever been with someone and you just couldn’t be what they wanted?”

That doesn’t feel good to hear. Miley can tell how upset Bitty is suddenly; he burrows the tips of his fingers into the carpet. “Um. I guess a lot of the time. But I’ve never really dated someone for that long, so maybe it’s different?”

“Oh. Why haven’t you?” Bitty asks.

Miley wants to shrug again but he worries he’ll wake up Ostie, so he gets stuck in a brain glitch for a second while one shoulder twitches. He works out what to say slowly, but his heart is still beating pretty fast when he says it. “I guess a lot of times people think I’m…too clingy? Or, I mean, um, I’m pretty weird, so…”

Bitty takes a second before he answers too. Miley’s not really looking at him, but thinks he sees the start of a smile. “You know, Jack is pretty weird, too.”

“Really?” Miley sits up excitedly without really meaning to—but Ost just grumbles and resettles in his lap. “He seems so _cool.”_

“Oh, sweetheart. My ex-boyfriend is the least cool person I know,” Bitty says. He’s definitely smiling, and not in the uncomfortable way where you can see way too many teeth. Warmly, this time. “That’s one of my favorite things about him.”

Miley smiles to himself and pets Ostie's fur. He's not sure what he wants to say back; he's focused on wondering what Jack might be like—if they'd get along, maybe. If Miley could meet someone who _understands,_ at least a little. He hasn't in a while.

“Can I ask something personal, then?” Bitty asks. He looks kind of nervous because he's biting his lip, which is kind of silly because Miley's been asking him weird stuff all afternoon.

“Fair's fair,” he answers, blinking down at Ost.

Bitty reaches his hand out towards Ost again, looking over at Miley before he touches. Miley nods, and Bitty gives her a tentative scratch behind the ears as he says, “So...the daddy kink thing.”

Miley hums.

Bitty talks slowly, keeping pace with his strokes down Ost's back. “Is that, like—um, you call Travis 'Dad?’”

Miley flaps a hand at him. “No, that's different. I don't wanna fuck Nelly! Or Cap, or Parse.” He grins. “Ooh, but this one time Parse and I _pretended_ we were fucking to freak out Dad, though. It was great!”

“I'll never understand any of you,” Bitty says.

“Not with that attitude!” Miley chirps, which makes Bitty snort.

Bitty stops petting Ost. “But you were serious about having one.”

“Um, yeah.” Miley frowns a little. He's getting a weird vibe from Bitty that he can't figure out, except that the energy in the room is off again. “Do you think that's—”

“Oh, Lord. I mean, it's just so _entirely_ not my thing,” Bitty cuts in, standing up quickly. “But to each his own, sugar. I've seen weirder.”

Well, yeah. Miley's _done_ weirder. But that's not really the point. He likes Bitty, but that doesn't make him easy to talk to. It's just that—he hates feeling like it's always his fault, like he's reading a different script than everyone else.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” Miley says. “We can try and get that video now.”

 

~*~

 

Miley and Bitty keep doing stuff like that for the social media campaign, and it _works!_ Miley gets voted into the games as the last man standing from his division. He actually gets to _play_ this time, instead of just tagging along with Dad and Cap so he can go to the Queer-B-Q.

Like, Miley knows that some players don't wanna go to the All Star Games, like Bitty said. Some people even fake injuries and shit to get out of it. And it's just one of those things that Miley's never gonna actually understand about other people—because this is his _dream._

Miley's been watching the All Star Games every year since he was little, and he fucking loves how cheesy and awesome the competitions and the whole vibe are. And maybe it's silly, but now it's a literal thing Miley can say: Milo Karlsson is an All Star.

Maybe it gets old or something, and that's why the older players don't care. But he doesn't think it'll get old for him.

And asking Bitty those questions doesn't make him stop thinking about Jack Zimmermann, either. He tries to not get super weird about it, but Parse also told him a while ago that it's pretty normal to Internet-stalk your crush a little bit, so it's probably fine.

It's just that, like, Bitty said Jack was _really weird._ Which can mean a lot of things, obviously, but Miley gets kind of fixated on imagining if Jack were weird like Miley is—maybe not exactly, but enough. Like, enough that maybe if they met at the games they'd actually hit it off.

Like, just as an example, maybe Jack would check Miley during one of the games and Miley would chirp, “Hey, buy me a drink first!” and Jack would actually think that's really funny, and then he'd happen to run into Miley at a bar that night and _actually_ buy him a drink.

And then they'd go have, like, mind-blowing kinky sex in someone's hotel room and then stay up all night talking and fall in love.

Miley's not particularly lonely or anything, but he thinks it'd be nice.

 

~*~

 

So obviously Miley goes and says hi to Jack as soon as he sees him that weekend, which is on their way to lunch on the first day.

Miley's with Nelly and Parse (who are definitely doing that thing where they pretend they didn't just have sex), and he kind of panics for a second because he doesn't know what he's supposed _call_ Jack. Zimmermann seems really formal, but maybe Jack is too casual? Maybe he should go for a nickname—does Jack _have_ a nickname? Sometimes Parse calls him “Zimms,” but that's only on the sad days, so Miley probably shouldn't go for that one.

Okay now they're about to pass each other and he has to say something soon or it'll be really weird. Miley blurts, “Jack, hey!” right as they walk by, pivoting a little to get Jack's attention.

Jack looks up from his phone and looks around for a second before he notices Miley. He smiles slightly. “Oh, uh, hey.”

“Your slapshot was _sick,_ man!” Miley has no idea what he's doing but his mouth keeps making words without him. “Like, wow. I can't believe you don't shatter glass with that thing on the reg.”

Jack laughs, though, and actually _blushes._ So maybe the weird flirty vibe is actually working. He smiles and says, “It’s, uh—it's happened. I just don't let my PR team chirp me on Twitter, eh?”

No, okay, Miley can definitely do the flirting thing. He leans up against the wall, shifting more into Jack's space, and teases, “Aw, where's the fun in that?”

“I have a very important image to maintain,” Jack tells him, face suddenly serious except for the edges of his mouth. “Crosby almost edged me out as most boring Captain last year.”

Miley laughs and tilts his head up, shyly glancing at Jack's eyes before looking down again. They're so _blue._ His stomach flutters. “You don't seem boring.”

“I'm not.” Jack leans in like he's telling Miley a secret. “But I like winning things.”

See, people say a lot of stuff about Jack. But no one mentioned he'd make Miley _laugh_ this much.

“Are you gonna win tomorrow?” Miley asks.

Jack shrugs. “Maybe.”

There's a pause then, so Miley figures it's time to make an actual move. “Hey, you're coming to the Queer-B-Q, right?”

Except Jack frowns and looks over Miley's shoulder at Nelly, so Miley panics and looks at Nelly too. “Ah, what’s that?”

Dad's face is...not great. Was Miley not supposed to invite Jack? Also, where did Parse go?

But then Nelly smiles and joins their conversation. “Uh, yeah, a bunch of us are getting together at Rosco’s place and barbecuing tonight, if you wanna come.”

“Uh,” says Jack.

“Your ex'll be there, though.”

Jack's voice goes flat. “Which one?”

“Yes!” Nelly answers.

Miley taps his hand against his hip nervously. Maybe Jack won't wanna come if Bitty and Parse are there. Maybe he'll think Miley's a jerk or something for trying to invite him or maybe he'll think it's some kind of trick—

“Uh, text me the address?” Jack asks, and Miley immediately looks up and grins. He wants to flap his hands, but he probably shouldn't do that here.

Nelly says, “Sure thing, bud,” and starts walking away without saying bye to Miley, which means he should probably follow.

He smiles at Jack first, though, and says, “I'll see you there!” before darting to catch up.

Then he asks, “I don't get what I'm doing wrong?” with earnest. “Like, Bitty's over Jack, Parse's over Jack, _you_ fucked him, but everyone's acting like—”

“You're allowed to flirt with Zimmermann, Rook,” Nelly says, but not in a kind way. He pulls Miley into a headlock and messes with his hair though, which usually means he's apologizing without saying it. “Just—Parse’s gonna be weird about it, and it’s not like—I dunno, maybe some of it’s you. But it’s also not, like, _you._ You know?”

Not really. But Miley doesn't feel like talking about it more either, so he says, “Uh, sure.”

They walk into the lunch room just then, and Nelly says, “Cool. Go smother him with your perfect Swedish body or something, it'll be fine.”

He pushes Miley in Parse's direction and then pulls out his phone, so Miley walks over on his own and takes the seat next to Parse—but not on the right side, because that's always Nelly's seat.

“Hi,” Miley tells him. “Dad says I should smother you with my perfect Swedish body.”

Parse snort-laughs. “Go for it?”

Miley does, and really sells it, too. Parse doesn't always like to be touched, but like—that's why Miley always asks. And sometimes, like now maybe, and that time right after the Falconers won the Cup—Parse likes touching a lot.

So Miley yanks Parse's entire chair over and presses their sides together with his arm around Parse's shoulder, and it's to make things okay again but not really an apology, which he thinks they both know—because, like, Miley feels bad that Parse feels bad, but he isn't _sorry._

The thing is that, like, the Queer-B-Q is _the_ place for queer NHLers to hang out and have a place that's just for them during the season. And sure, Bitty and Parse say mean things about Jack sometimes (especially if they're talking to each other) and maybe Jack did some shitty things, or Bitty and Parse are just sad. But if Jack is queer, he belongs at the barbecue. Even if it turns out he doesn't like Miley, or he's mean to him too.

Before Miley got drafted to Seattle and Dad and Cap basically adopted him into their squad, Miley...got left out of a lot of stuff. He doesn't want that to happen to anyone else.

 

~*~

 

Miley takes a pretty long time picking out his outfit, even by his standards. He wants to dress like himself, obviously, because otherwise what's even the _point,_ but also to get Jack to notice him. He thinks about how Bitty normally dresses, which is this neat Americana-fantasy vibe just a tiny bit bro-ed out depending on where they're going. It's sort of stacking the deck, honestly, but he's pretty sure Nelly would approve.

He ends up choosing a pair of white linen pants with his favorite bold-striped sweater—it's navy and white for the Aesthetic, but really he picks it because it's the best texture for stimming if he gets nervous. It's cool enough to layer, so he finishes the look with a tailored twill jacket and a neckerscarf that's the Swedish flag tied around his throat—Americana, queered, which is a great joke no one else will get.

So anyway, it's not his fault he makes everyone late, and by now Cap has started telling him everything starts thirty minutes earlier than it does anyway. Like, obviously Miley noticed, but he goes along with it because it helps anyway. The only one who might give him a hard time is Bitty, and he's even later because for some reason he runs out of the Airbnb carrying a pie.

“Were we supposed to bring food?” Miley asks Nelly.

He didn't mean for Bitty to hear, but Bitty _tsks_ at him and says, “If you're from the South you are.”

It's not like Miley can dispute that, so he just shrugs and takes the pie for Bitty while he crawls into the middle seat of the car they're taking to Rosco's.

They get to the Queer-B-Q at a pretty normal time, even though Parse chirps Bitty about running on Seattle time and Bitty bans him from having any pie and Benji literally pulls the rental car over as a joke to make them stop fighting, but then it takes forever to merge back into traffic.

Jack’s not there yet, so Miley mostly hangs out with Parse and listens to him tell funny stories about everyone—sometimes he gets Miley to help tell them, too, and it’s actually fun to do it that way. Miley tends to get pretty loud and excited when he tells jokes and shit, and Parse never makes him feel bad about it, even though he’s more understated.

So Miley actually really likes socializing like this, but he has to be in the right headspace for it, and as more time passes he’s starting to feel anxious about whether or not Jack will come, and even if Jack does come, maybe he won’t actually wanna talk to Miley? So he feels like he’s not really being _present,_ like, the way people want him to be—mostly he watches stim videos on his phone unless Parse encourages him to say something.

Miley’s by the pool half-listening to Nelly show Rosco’s partner—whose name Miley forgot and it’d be super awkward to ask now—pictures of the dogs when he hears someone fumbling with Rosco’s weird wooden gate before it finally unlatches and Jack stumbles into the backyard.

A smile spreads across Miley’s face as his stomach flips. He shoves his phone back in his pocket hastily and says, “Oh, hey, Jack’s here!” to like, the group in general, even though he’s already jogging around the pool’s edge to meet Jack by the gate.

“Jack!” he greets, scuffing a shoe against a paving stone when he stops in front of him. His breath is coming a little short even though obviously it wasn’t, like, actually hard to jog over. He rubs his sweater between his thumb and forefinger. “You made it!”

“Ah, yeah.” Jack rubs the back of his neck which pulls the hem of his shirt up. Miley looks him up and down—he’s wearing these really retro-yellow sneakers with white shorts and a black polo, which is honestly a disaster but kind of cute? “Sorry, uh—Nelson didn’t really say what time to come?”

Miley blinks rapidly to refocus. “That’s okay. I like your sneakers!”

Jack just looks at Miley a little sideways, like maybe he didn’t hear him.

“They’re, like, a sick ‘90s vibe, yeah?” Miley tells him. He tries to smile without it being too much of a thing. “They’d look so cool with—if you did a crewneck sweater and lightwash jeans or something, maybe. Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I feel like you’re complimenting something I’m wearing,” Jack says, tilting up one side of his mouth. “Which probably hasn’t happened since the actual ‘90s.”

Miley laughs, then purses his lips together. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, sure.” Jack looks over Miley’s shoulder for a second before turning back to him. “What, uh, is there?”

“There’s this spiked tea Rosco made that I think he poured like _so_ much vodka into—I thought it’d be gross but it’s actually pretty good,” Miley suggests.

Jack rubs the back of his neck again. “Uh, maybe not that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Miley apologizes in a rush. “I didn’t even ask if you wanted—there’s like soda and shit too, and water?”

Jack makes a gentle _‘stop’_ motion with his hand. Miley's head is tilted down, but he feels Jack's eyes on his face. “No, it’s fine. I just, uh, maybe a beer?”

Miley says, “Oh, okay,” rocking onto the balls of his feet and back on his heels. “I think he’s got Corona and Stella? But also, we brought this really weird beer from back home that was supposed to be a prank? But Nelly’s pissed because it’s _so good_ and I think there’s some left.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “That sounds great—the weird one.”

It’s a totally normal thing to say, obviously, in context—but Miley kind of smiles to himself when he digs two of the Old Stove cans out of the cooler. Like it could be a sign or something.

He darts back over to Jack and hands one over, but before either of them cracks their can open Jack does this erratic flailing with one arm and smacks into Miley’s hand—he almost drops his beer, but Jack fumbles for it and presses it back into Miley’s grip.

 _“Shit,”_ Jack says. “Sorry.”

Miley looks over across the pool and realizes that Bitty, Nelly, Parse, Rosco, and Rosco’s partner are all staring at them. Bitty is doing his so-many-teeth smile—the one that reminds Miley of when Ost yawns and he remembers that she’s a tiny apex predator that lives in his house.

“Um, did you wanna go say hi?” he asks.

“Honestly?” Jack asks. Miley nods even though Jack keeps talking. “Not really. But I guess I should.”

Miley stims with his sweater again, looking away from the group. He hesitates for an extra second, then asks, “Can I put my hand on your back?”

“Oh, I—” Jack tilts his head and stares right at Miley’s face. “Sure?”

Miley smiles down at Jack’s sneakers as he shifts to the side of him instead of across, his hand resting high between Jack’s shoulder blades. “Let’s go,” he encourages softly, which actually makes Jack give this quiet laugh that’s almost a sigh.

Jack asks something on the way over, but Miley’s distracted because Parse sees them coming and immediately power-walks in the opposite direction.

“Sorry?” Miley asks, but then he realizes Jack asked if Bitty brought a pie. “Oh, yeah, he did, but I think it’s all gone. Why?”

“Nothing,” Jack says, then, “Uh, hey,” when Nelly says hi to him. He’s watching Parse yank the sliding door to the house open, though.

Miley wants to keep touching Jack, but he’s not sure if it’s weird now. He waits until Parse isn’t visible in the house anymore and Jack turns to talk to Bitty, which makes it more natural for Miley to let his hand slip back to his side.

“It’s good to see you,” Jack says.

Bitty’s voice is more tentative than normal. “Oh, um, it’s…good to see you too, Jack.”

Miley wonders if they’ve seen each other at all since they broke up. He thinks about what it’d be like to have to talk to one of his exes—it doesn’t seem fun.

Jack fiddles with the tab on his beer can and asks, “Uh, how’s Seattle?”

That reminds Miley to open his own can. He’s messing with that when Bitty says, “They don’t pay me enough.”

“Hey!” Miley says. He snaps the tab on the beer at the same time and it fizzes everywhere because he forgot to tap on it after it got shook up—whoops.

Miley slurps up most of the foam and then shakes his hand to flick the stickiness away. When he zones back into the conversation, Nelly’s gone and Bitty’s mentioning something about Malcom and not wanting to relocate.

“Oh, what does your boyfriend do?” Rosco’s partner—who doesn’t introduce himself to Jack which is _really_ frustrating because if he would, Miley could figure out his name—asks Bitty.

Bitty says, “Oh, he’s a chef, actually!” and Jack looks down at his beer, lifting the metal tab up and snapping it back in place over and over again. “We met at his restaurant. It’s the best brunch spot in Capitol Hill!”

Which, Bitty definitely met Malcom on Grindr, but that’s fine. Miley still thinks it’s dumb to lie about something like that, but it’s a dumb thing that’s important to his friend, so—plus he’s still talking, and it’d be extra shitty to interrupt him to call him out on it.

Jack is still messing with his beer can, but he looks up when Bitty takes a breath in his conversation and tells him, “You seem really happy.” He pauses when Bitty flinches. “I’m glad.”

Bitty looks up at him, right in the eyes. He doesn’t answer right away, for long enough that Miley wonders if he’ll say anything at all. “I—thank you, Jack,” he says eventually, smiling even though his voice is still shaky. “Um, did…did y’all get any pie?”

“It’s, uh, all gone, I think,” Jack says. He looks over at Miley, so Miley nods at him.

“Oh, well! That’s a shame!” Bitty smiles wider again and turns towards the pool, wiping quickly at his face. He gestures broadly with his hands. “Speaking of, I better go get that tin before I go and leave it all the way in Miami! I’ll just put it in the car. Milo, sugar, who has the keys?”

It takes a second to remember; Miley’s chest hurts a little bit even though he’s not the one maybe trying not to cry. “Um, it’s Cap, I think?”

“Great, thanks,” Bitty says, then tells Jack, “It’s good to see you,” even though Miley doesn’t think it was.

“You, too,” Jack answers. He steps to the side, further away from Miley, when Bitty brushes past them to head towards the food table.

Miley’s really glad he wore his favorite sweater.

Rosco whistles dramatically and says, “So, we’ll be literally anywhere else. See ya, Miley. Zimmermann.”

“Um, bye?” Miley tells him, but he and his partner are already walking away.

It gets awkwardly quiet, but Miley’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, so he just pulls his phone back out, just out of habit.

“What’re, uh. What’re you watching?” Jack asks partway through a video.

Miley jumps. He hesitates, pausing and unpausing the video until he finally hits play for real and angles the screen so Jack can see better. “Oh, um, it’s kinda weird? There’s this YouTuber who cuts up kinetic sand and stuff—I just think it’s neat.”

Jack hums thoughtfully.  He watches the rest of the video without saying anything else, but he shifts closer again in a way that makes Miley’s stomach flutter.

“Are there more?” he asks when it’s over. Miley must look at him weird, because he stammers, “Oh, uh—sorry, uh—you don’t have to. I just thought—it’s relaxing, eh?”

“No, no! Or, I mean, yeah, I wanna—” Miley laughs nervously and smiles. “Wanna see my favorite?”

“Please,” says Jack. Miley clicks over to his favorites tab and finds one of the shorter ones, just in case Jack gets bored. While the video is playing, Jack asks, “Is that what people call you, by the way? Miley?”

It takes Miley an extra second to process, especially because he doesn't wanna look away from the video, which is almost at the best part. But he answers, “Oh, yeah. But also Milo, which is my real name, and Mo, and Rookie, and Rook, and back in Sweden my old team called me Sunny but no one does that here really?”

Jack chuckles.

“Sorry, that got really rambly.” Miley hits replay on the video. “You can call me whatever, though.”

After a thoughtful pause, Jack softly tells him, “I like Milo.”

The way he says it makes Miley's entire body shiver, in a good way, but he doesn't know what to say back.

Jack just opens his beer, though, and takes a sip. “Ah, wow, this is really good.”

“It's got pink guava in it,” Miley says. “Whatever the fuck that is.”

Jack snorts halfway through taking another sip. It's really nice, being able to make him laugh.

 

~*~

 

Miley shows Jack a few more videos while they actually drink their beers, and then they go and grab food before they wander back over near the pool. Miley keeps waiting for Jack to say he’s gonna go talk to someone else, but he never does.

Instead they get to talking about Halloween costumes somehow, and Miley starts to explain how every year Soup puts together a group costume for the squad and Miley’s first year he went as Daenerys, but it turns out that Jack has no idea what Game of Thrones is so Miley gets really into explaining that instead, even though it’s not even his favorite show or anything.

But Jack’s a really good listener, which is cool. So Miley circles back to the Halloween costume thing again because that was actually the point of the story, before he got distracted, and Jack comments, “Wow, I’ve known Cam since we were kids, but I didn’t know he made costumes and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah! With his wife, Annie,” Miley says. “I think it’s just a hobby, but I bet they could, like, actually sell them.”

Jack nods. He takes a sip of his water and asks, “So, uh, what’re your hobbies?”

“Hockey,” Miley answers right away, because duh, but then he winces. “Um, I mean, sorry, that’s du—”

Jack is smiling, though. “I like hockey too.”

Miley looks down at his feet, dragging a shoe back and forth across the pool deck. He can’t tell if Jack is making fun of him.

“More than just my job, I mean,” Jack continues. “Sorry, uh. I thought that’s what you meant.”

“Um, yeah!” Miley looks up again and smiles. “Like, I know people get tired of it or whatever, but I _don’t._ I’d love it even if I sucked at it.”

Jack is still smiling too, but there’s something more intense about it in a way Miley can feel but not describe. “Me too. I guess, ah. That’s why I came back. You know, uh, after.”

“Yeah. I really miss just watching it, too, but I don’t really get to anymore?” Miley says. He reaches a hand out towards him. “Um, could I touch your arm?”

“Sure,” Jack says, then, “Sorry. You’ve asked me that twice. Do I…seem like I don’t want you to touch me?”

Miley hesitates but ends up resting his hand on Jack’s arm anyway. “Oh, um, not particularly? I just think like, you should get consent before you touch someone? As a rule?”

Jack shifts so that half of Miley’s hand is touching bare skin—he’s so _warm._ “Oh, uh, okay.”

Miley swallows. They’re standing pretty close together now, and he’s not sure exactly how or when that happened except that maybe Jack keeps moving closer, and he’s staring at the scarf on Miley’s neck with this scary intensity that makes it feel like rope burn.

“And, um, not everyone likes to be touched everywhere,” Miley tells him. Something’s different in his voice, thicker. “So, like, for example—I’d probably ask if I could touch you here, too?”

He slides his hand down just a little, so that his palm is pressed fully against Jack’s bare bicep, and Jack clears his throat before saying, “Yeah, there’s fine.”

Miley’s other hand is holding his second beer. It suddenly takes extra concentration to keep it from slipping through his fingers. He skims down to Jack’s elbow playfully. “What about here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says. He presses a little harder into the touch, maybe without meaning to. Miley smiles.

“Here?” he asks softer, something giddy sparking in his stomach, and drops his hand to Jack’s hip. It’s loud, obviously, all around them, but he can hear Jack take a shallow breath. He scrunches the fabric between his fingers just a little, feeling the side of a muscle flex underneath. “Like this?”

Jack stammers, “Uh, yeah, that’s—you can, uh—” but he cuts off with his mouth hanging open when he locks eyes with Miley, and _fuck,_ it’s—

There’s a reason why Miley doesn’t normally _do_ eye contact, and it’s that it just feels so sharp and intimate in a way that hurts, but—looking into Jack’s, right now—it hurts like a really fucking fantastic orgasm. Like someone decided there should be a punishment for getting to feel that good.

Jack looks away first. Miley squeezes his eyes shut and says, “Sorry,” and puts his beer down so quickly it falls over and the can starts rolling away, and scrubs both his hands over his eyelids and down his jaw and says, “Sorry?” again. “Um, I just need, um, sorry?”

“No, uh, I—it’s.” Jack moves away and Miley hears the sound of metal clinking, and Jack moves closer again. “I’m sorry.”

Miley keeps dragging the pads of his fingertips across his stubble. He feels so fucking overstimulated and also like he’s outside his body, but he laughs shakily. It still feels good, is the thing.

“I’m…not sure what just happened,” Jack says. “But if I did something—”

“Nothing bad,” Miley promises. He opens his eyes and realizes his beer is right-side up again, so that’s probably what Jack was doing. “Sorry, I feel so embarrassed?”

Jack is staring at the pool; there’s water lapping gently at the edge of the deck. “Uh, me too. But maybe that’s not so bad then, eh?”

He laughs hesitantly, so Miley does too. He wants to say something else, but just then there’s a weird crashing sound from the direction of the house and they both turn to look.

Nelly is cursing and trying to shove the entire sliding glass door back onto the metal track while Benji juggles a bowl of popcorn and tries to help keep the door from falling over entirely.

“Yikes,” Miley says.

Rosco was over by the volleyball net, but he definitely saw what happened because he’s shouting, “Travis, what the _fuck?”_ in continuously weirder voices as he storms over.

“Coco, babe,” Nelly shouts back, “this is _totally_ fixable!”

“Oh boy,” Miley says. He smiles sheepishly at Jack, but with his eyes carefully fixed on Nelly behind him. “I’ve got this weird feeling I’ll have to leave soon.”

Jack laughs and turns back to face him. “Are you sure? I could, uh, get you a ride home later.”

“Nah,” Miley says, “hashtag ride or die squad. But, um, thanks.”

“Sure.” Jack takes a drink from his water bottle, then rubs the back of his neck. “Uh. Since you…like…hockey. We could sit together tomorrow and, uh, watch together. If we aren’t in the final.”

Miley grins excitedly, clapping his hands together. “Really? I’d, um—I’d love that!”

Jack says, “Me too,” then steps to the side as Benji darts past them, giggling and still carrying the popcorn. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you then?”

“Code orange, rookie,” Nelly says, dragging Bitty by the arm, even though that means literally nothing to Miley.

“Um,” says Miley. He knocks over the fucking beer can again because Parse flips Jack off with one hand and shoves Miley towards the gate with the other, and Miley accidentally kicks the can with his foot when he tries to regain his footing. “Yeah, bye!”

Jack does this really adorable, dorky wave goodbye that Miley tries to copy while walking backwards and ends up smacking his hand on the gate, but it’s fine—this is why he likes having a high pain tolerance.

Everyone piles into the car with Bitty driving this time, which really does make this feel like some kind of get-away situation because Bitty pretty much always drives like every single other car on the road insulted his baking and deserves to suffer.

Miley’s on the right side in the back with Benji next to him in the middle, and suddenly he’s so exhausted—not in a totally bad way, just that a lot happened all at once and he wants to be in his head for a while to think about it.

Benji nudges him very lightly to get his attention, though, and asks, “How’d it go?”

Miley doesn’t wanna answer verbally, but he does kick his legs really fast against the seat in front of him and flaps his hands against his knees at the same time.

And obviously Cap doesn’t specifically know that Miley is happy-stimming, but he seems to get what Miley is trying to tell him, because he just says, “Nice,” and gives Miley a high-five. Cap’s really the only one Miley would do that around, but he’s glad he did.

 

~*~

 

Pacific and Central are the first game of the night, so Miley doesn’t get a chance to look for Jack beforehand, but that’s okay. It’s pretty easy to focus on playing hockey—it’s the main reason he’s here, anyway, even if it’d also be cool to go on—well, Miley’s not sure if it’s actually a date. But maybe it is.

Anyway, their game is up first, and Miley’s never cared about winning as much as most of his teammates anyway, but he’s actually a little excited when they lose to Central tonight. Not that he’d tell anyone else that.

Jack’s team loses too, which Miley feels guiltier about being happy about—but Jack doesn’t seem upset when he meets Miley outside the locker rooms after the game.

“Hey,” he says. His hair is still wet from a shower and dripping water onto his UnderArmour. “Do you still wanna, uh?”

Miley smiles. “Yeah!”

“Cool.” Jack is smiling too, but he looks both ways down the hallway quickly. “Uh, I grabbed us seats, but PK’s been bugging people with a camera, so.”

Miley gets it. “We’re just hanging out,” he says cheerfully. “Haha, like, two bros chillin’ five feet apart?”

“Huh?” Jack asks.

Yeah, probably should’ve guessed that one wouldn’t land. Miley shakes his head and starts walking, letting Jack take over the lead. “Sorry, weird reference. But anyway, it’s chill.”

“He usually goes back to the commentary desk when the game starts,” Jack says. They make their way over to the players’ section where Jack dumped a duffel bag and a red sweatshirt in two seats at the far end.

Miley doesn’t really mind being on camera, but he hopes no one tries to film them much today. It’s not like they could really do anything too flirty here either way, obviously, but Jack seems nervous about it. At least they’re sitting next to Rosco, who won’t bug them.

The sweatshirt says _Samwell_ on it, which Miley recognizes as Jack and Bitty’s old university. He watches the way Jack’s shirt rucks up over his belly a little when he reaches up to pull the sweatshirt on, mouth going a little dry.

They’ve still got fifteen minutes before the game starts. Miley wonders if he should offer to go get food or something, but if Jack’s friends are like Miley’s, they’re probably all going out to eat after the games are over. He pulls his feet up onto the seat and hugs his legs instead, trying to get comfortable.

“I miss watching, too,” Jack tells him, out of nowhere except that Miley remembers telling him that yesterday. He leans in closer to say it, his voice projecting over the murmur of the crowd.

Miley nods emphatically. “I watch a lot of tape, obviously, but it’s not the same as being here in person like when I was little. My parents thought it was really weird, because I actually liked all the noise?”

Jack laughs and says, “I was the opposite. I screamed and cried all the time until they figured out they should get me ear plugs.”

“Oh, are you okay now?” Miley asks worriedly. He reaches over into his drawstring bag. “I’ve got noise-cancelling headphones!”

“Haha, Milo, it’s fine.” Jack leans down and gently tugs the bag out of Miley’s hand. “I grew out of it, eh? But thank you.”

Miley sits back up, wobbling for a second while he re-perches in the chair. “Okay! Let me know if you change your mind. Can I touch your arm?”

“Sure,” Jack answers. He shifts to the side and rests his forearm on the armrest between their chairs; Miley rests his hand over it briefly, feeling the texture of the sweatshirt. “Is there, uh, some way I can just give you blanket permission to do that?”

“Oh, definitely!” Miley moves his hand for now, though. The sweatshirt is a little soft and it feels kind of weird. “Sorry, I know it gets kind of annoying—”

“No, it’s, uh. It’s nice that you ask,” Jack cuts in. He takes one of his drawstrings between two fingers and starts spinning it around. “I just, uh, maybe that’s part of why I don’t mind, actually.”

Miley is caught up watching how fast the drawstring is spinning—it starts to do that thing where it blurs and looks like a circle, but then Jack drops it and folds his hands in his lap.

“Sorry,” Miley says way too late. “I heard what you said, I just, um—never mind. But, wow, thanks? So where—um, where’s it okay without asking?”

“My arms and shoulders, I guess. And my back, like you did yesterday.” Jack starts to turn towards Miley in his seat, but then stops. “Uh, should I ask before I touch you?”

Miley closes his eyes and taps his feet on the chair. “Um. Yeah, but it’s okay if you forget, it’s not—”

“I’ll try not to,” Jack tells him. “Can I put my arm around your chair?”

Miley opens his eyes and looks over at Jack, resting his cheek on his knees with a smile. “Um, yeah. I’d like that.”

Jack nods and rests his arm over the chair back, his hand draped near Miley’s far shoulder. Miley leans back in his seat so that his shoulders and neck are brushed up against Jack, feet still tapping restlessly. It’s nice, sitting like this, and he doesn’t think it’d look too weird if someone took a picture or something.

“So, uh,” Jack asks, “what do you like besides hockey?"

Miley hums happily. “I’m really into fashion, honestly? I do some modelling on the side during the off-season.”

“Oh, nice. My mom, uh—she doesn’t model as much anymore, but she used to.” Jack glances away. “I guess, uh, you probably knew that already. Sorry.”

“I like hearing you talk about it,” Miley answers honestly. He shifts at an angle so he’s more wedged between the armrest closer to Jack and the back of the chair. “Was it weird having famous parents?”

“I hated it.” Jack flinches, his arm falling away from Miley’s shoulders. “Uh. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m sorry.”

Miley says, “I asked.”

“Right. But that’s not—people want a fun story, or something,” Jack says. “Not how much it sucked.”

Miley shakes his head, scrunching his leggings up in his hands. He slumps down in the seat until his cheek brushes against Jack’s arm. “I wanted to know more about you. Why would I want you to lie?”

Jack asks, “Is it okay to put my arm back?” and Miley nods. He actually wraps it around Miley’s shoulders instead of the chair this time, which makes Miley look up at him wide-eyed for a second. But Jack doesn’t seem as nervous anymore, even though he’s bouncing a leg really fast, and he says, “I was a really shy kid, I guess. And fat. Papa used to joke that if I weren’t so good at hockey, he’d—uh, he’d think I was switched at the hospital or something.”

Miley presses his frown into the crook of Jack’s shoulder. “That’s _awful.”_

“I guess.” Jack hooks his fingers under the sleeve of Miley’s shirt and starts playing with the fabric—he doesn’t seem like he even realizes he’s doing it, but Miley doesn’t mind. “But I know they were trying to love me, you know? We’ve, uh, got a better relationship now.”

Miley’s parents found out he was autistic when he was three and still hadn’t learned to talk. He didn’t say a word until he was six and he used to have full-blown meltdowns in the grocer because the lights were too bright, but they never told him that he shouldn’t have been their kid. He tries really fucking hard to figure out how anyone could say that, but he can’t.

He has to say something or it’ll be weird, though, so he tells Jack, “I’m glad it’s better now.”

“Thanks. You’re, uh, really easy to talk to,” Jack says. His fingers have thick callouses and they scrape against Miley’s bicep every time Jack lets the elastic of Miley’s sleeve snap and then pulls it up again. “It’s nice.”

“I think it’s cause I don’t really look at people,” Miley explains. He turns more sideways and braces his feet against the far armrest—Rosco turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t say he has to move.

Jack asks, “How so?”

“’Cause then it doesn’t feel like you’re really talking to someone.” Miley had an ex who said it like a bad thing, but he thinks sometimes it’s better, like now.

“…Maybe,” says Jack, but he doesn’t sound sure. He stops messing with Miley’s sleeve and rubs a thumb up and down his arm instead. Miley closes his eyes so he can focus on how nice it feels.

“Tell me something true and happy?” he asks. “About you.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. Miley’s eyes are still closed, but he can feel Jack looking. “I really like photography.”

Miley opens his eyes slowly so he can make sure that Jack knows he’s smiling. “Something else?”

Jack smiles back at him and looks away, watching the players skate onto the ice as the crowd cheers. “You make me want to take a picture.”

 

~*~

 

They mostly talk about the game while it’s going on—which plays are sick and who they think is gonna win—but during the intermissions Jack talks more about photography and even shows Miley his Secret Instagram, which is under a pseudonym and has tons of cool shots of stuff from all over the US and Canada. It’s mostly of landscapes and animals, but there’s people sometimes too, mostly friends Jack says he met at university. If they scroll back far enough, there are a lot of Bitty.

It’s the most Jack’s talked about anything since Miley met him yesterday, and it’s weird but nice. Sometimes Miley gets a little bored if someone’s talking about a thing he’s not that interested in personally, but he doesn’t mind if it’s Jack.

Miley’s phone blows up after the game; Nelly and Parse are a few rows below them in the players’ section, but Benji and Bitty are somewhere else in the stands so everyone’s trying to figure out where to meet up and arguing over where they should eat dinner.

“Looks like you’ve got plans, eh?” Jack chirps as Miley switches his phone from vibrate to silent.

“Um, yeah,” Miley says. He looks around and then scrunches his leggings up in his hands again. “But could I ask you something first?”

Jack says, “Of course.”

“Maybe privately?” Miley clarifies. He takes a deep breath. It’s better to just know. He _hates_ not knowing.

Jack stands up and offers Miley a hand; Miley takes it and pulls himself to his feet, and Jack doesn’t drop it right away—he holds it just for a second, barely long enough for Miley to wonder if it’s on purpose.

They file out of the arena-proper and duck into a hallway no one else seems to be going down. Jack leans against the wall so Miley does too, gripping the straps of his drawstring bag and sliding his hands up and down them.

“What’s up?” Jack asks.

Miley blurts, “I really like you!” to Jack’s shoes, which are the same yellow sneakers he was wearing yesterday. It kind of helps, weirdly. “And, um, I had a great weekend hanging out with you and I think you did too, but I’m not, um, always great at knowing what people are thinking? So I’m just wondering, if you did and if—um, if you…like me, too. Yeah.”

Jack doesn’t say anything right away.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Miley tells him. He tries to be quiet and let people talk but sometimes he just _can’t._ “I won’t be mad or anything, and like, I know maybe it’s not bros or whatever because of Bitty and Parse—”

“Milo, wait,” Jack cuts in gently. He reaches out and then stops, but Miley nods so he reaches the rest of the way and squeezes his arm. “I, uh—it’s not that I don’t. I think.”

“You think?” Miley asks. He tries not to pout at the floor, but it kind of happens anyway.

“I've never been—” Jack cuts off with a frustrated noise and slides his hand further up Miley's arm. “Can I...kiss you?”

Miley looks up, eyes fixed on Jack's mouth, his stomach flipping. He takes a breath and sighs out, “Y-yeah.”

Jack looks around before he leans in, and then they're kissing, Jack shifting _so_ carefully without touching anywhere else—so much that Miley has to chase his mouth.

“It's okay,” Miley murmurs. “You can, right now,” and Jack cups his jaw immediately—kind of roughly, like it was hurting to not, and _fuck,_ it's good.

It's a good kiss, and Miley pulls away again. Jack stares at him kind of dazed, with his mouth a little open and dark.

“Sorry,” Miley tells him. His breath's coming a little short. “I just...I still don't know what that means?”

“I…?” Jack lets go of Miley's face slowly, his hand falling away. “I just. Wanted to kiss you.”

“Yeah, it was nice!” Miley reaches out tentatively for something to touch, ends up holding on to Jack's biceps even though the sweatshirt still feels weird. “But like, I wanted to know if you like me, or if, I mean—like, do you just wanna hook up or something?”

Jack furrows his eyebrows; Miley wants to touch them, smooth them out, but it's not a good time to ask. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't—?”

“What you're asking me to do,” Jack says slowly. “I, uh. It normally takes me—I don't feel things quickly. Or, uh, notice them, maybe. Sorry, Crisse, I feel like such an idiot.”

Miley traces his fingers down Jack's arm, towards his wrist, and takes his hand. “No, don't! It's okay.”

Jack laughs faintly and shakes his head, and when Miley sneaks a peek at his eyes, they look soft and warm. He's looking somewhere near Miley's collarbone when he says, “But I feel, uh, a lot. For you. And it, well—it took me two years to kiss Bittle? So this is some kind of record, eh?”

There's a million things Miley wants to ask, but Jack doesn't look done talking. He squeezes his hand instead and gets a squeeze back.

“But if you, uh. If you want it in words.” Jack looks away suddenly and makes a frustrated sound. He sinks down to the floor suddenly, but he doesn't let go of Miley's hand. “I don't think I can do that yet.”

Miley sits down next to Jack, both of them facing forward and their hands loosely linked. “Oh, um, okay.”

“I just need time—to figure out what it means for me?” Jack asks.

 _But it means something,_ Miley thinks. It's a little hard to breathe, but in the good way—like he keeps forgetting to because he's so excited.

Jack traces his thumb up and down the edge of Miley's palm says, “I understand if you don't want to wait.”

“Oh, I won't,” Miley says, then scrunches up his face. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Jack laughs, though, and he doesn't stop touching Miley.

Miley tries again. “I just mean, um, I won't stop fucking other people and stuff. But I won't...stop liking you, either. So it's okay, if you need time.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Jack says. He looks around the corner like he did before. “Um. Can I kiss you again?”

Miley looks down between his knees and drums the fingers of his free hand against his thigh. “Um, maybe not right now? I'm sorry.”

“No, that's fine,” Jack promises.

Miley looks back over at him again, and Jack turns at the same time. Their eyes meet, just for a second, before Miley closes his with a nervous giggle. He leans over slowly, the hand he's holding Jack's with bracing for support, and rests his head on Jack's shoulder.

“Fuck,” Jack says softly, probably only to himself. Miley keeps his eyes closed and breathes, smiling just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering who I am and what I've done with SummerFrost, I don't know either! You can try to find me on [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/summerfrost) or [Tumblr!](https://www.yoursummerfrost.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you want more poorly-behaved Seattle Schooners antics, give [the OMGCP Suitehearts blog](https://omgcp-suitehearts.tumblr.com/) a follow!


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